Fan Male
by SineTimore
Summary: Beckett is tasked with helping Castle go through his fan mail and it doesn't go as expected. *one shot*


**Disclaimer: **Most certainly not.

**AN**: Because I didn't watch tonight's ep. Because when I take showers, weird things pop into my head. Because I wanted to stay up hours past my bedtime and wake up cranky for work. Because sometimes I do things for no good reason. See previous sentences for examples.

* * *

_**Fan Male**_

The loft door opens with a flourish as she pours hot water against the tea bag dangling in her oversized mug. He'd left the precinct earlier that afternoon en route to Black Pawn to pick something up and they'd agreed to meet at the loft afterwards. It was still new to her, using the key that he'd given her, especially when he wasn't going to be there, but within minutes of each arrival she'd always felt the comfort of home away from home.

"Hey," she calls out in tandem with his grunt, the noise coinciding with the difficulty he experiences in closing the door with his hands full of cardboard box. She leaves the steaming tea behind and comes to his aid, arriving just as the box hits the floor with a _thud_ that the downstairs neighbors certainly won't appreciate. "What's this?" she asks, before properly greeting him with a soft peck to the lips.

"This is what I had to pick up from my publisher's office. It's fan mail. They've been holding it for me for a few months now." He discards his jacket and his shoes in a spot where they don't belong and exchanges pleasantries with her about the remainder of her paperwork-filled afternoon; "a thrill" being her sarcastic phrase of choice.

"So," she starts, en route back to the kitchen to claim her liquid comfort, "did you see Gina?"

"I did, yes, and she sends her best to you," he offers. "You know, I actually think she might like you more than she likes me."

She smiles at him as she rounds the counter and comes to rest in the vee of his legs. "Nah, Castle," she begins, as her fingers run through the hair at his temples, "I think it's just that she's been married to you, so she knows what I have to deal with on a daily basis. She's probably just sympathizing," she teases.

"Yes, ha, very funny. Just for that, you get to help me go through all of those letters." He pushes her backward a few steps and slides himself from the stool. "You might want to make something stronger than green tea, Detective. You see how big that box is? I have _a lot_ of fans and this could take a while."

* * *

The box sits empty on its side next to the coffee table, its contents having been emptied in a large pile in front of their position on the couch. From the self-satisfied grin plastered to his face, she can tell that he's well beyond an appropriate level of enjoyment. From the pursed lips on her face, he can tell that she's not.

"Thank you for doing this with me," he beams, returning his eyes to the paper laced with praise in his hand.

"Not like you gave me much choice," she grumbles quietly. "Do you really read every one of these, Castle? I mean, some of these are…wow."

"I try to. People take the time to write them so I suppose it's the least that I can do. Keeps me connected with those who make it all possible, you know?"

"Yes, that's very moving, Castle. And, I'm sure the ego stroking has nothing to do with it."

"You wound me, Detective," he declares, his eyes never leaving the page.

She reaches for the next envelope and pulls out the light yellow stationary. She reads the words written there once over before peering at him without drawing his attention. She's suddenly taken by the joy in his face, the shimmer of his eyes full of pride, the curve of his mouth in contented smile. This really means something to him and that means something to her.

"Wow," she utters in quiet amazement.

"Wow, what?" he asks, granting her one eye's worth of attention.

"This letter, Castle, is quite touching, actually. May I read it to you?"

"I'd love that!" he exclaims enthusiastically. "Just, please remember to use your sexy voice."

After a requisite and well-deserved roll of the eyes, she reads aloud:

_Dear Mr. Castle,_

_I've imagined writing to you for some time now but I always manage to talk myself out of it. It seems foolish, somehow, putting your emotions down on paper and sending them to someone you've never met, will probably never meet. But, given everything that's happened in my life recently, it now seems more foolish not to. Time, it seems, is rarely on our side. We should make the best of every moment._

_I've read every single one of your books (yes, even Hell Hath No Fury) and I've found humor, comfort, solace and escape, to name but a few. I've found worlds that have made me forget my own. It's truly amazing, the effect that someone else's words can have on us. Without your words, Mr. Castle, my dark days would have been far darker. For that, I will be eternally grateful. You know, you signed a book for me at an event once. I stood in line in the rain for over an hour waiting. You were so kind to me when I stepped up to the table. I often pull that book from my shelf and think about that day, about that kindness, about how it made the rain disappear._

_I hope that you never stop writing, Mr. Castle. I can't imagine a world without your worlds in it._

_Oh, and I should also mention that you're gorgeous and sexy and charming. And you have incredible eyes. And when you smile, you could light up even the darkest room. And your hair defies logic._

_Thank you for all that you've unknowingly done for me._

_Most sincerely,_

_Steve Jones_

"_Steve?" _he shouts in confusion. "That was written by a man? But the eyes and the smile and the hair- I'm…what? Steve? Really?"

"I think we should frame this one, Castle. You know what, I'll take care of that for you," she teases as she folds the paper back up at its creases and chuckles.

"Seriously? Let me see that! I'm just…" He tries to grab for the letter but she pulls it back possessively. "Come on, Beckett, let me see it."

"Cas-" she says insistently as he finally manages to yank the paper from her hand.

He unfolds it once again and stares at it in shock. "Kate? What…all this says is _Nikki Heat sux, you prick_." He glances up at her face which is now slightly pink in color. "Did you just make all of that up off the top of your head? That whole letter?"

"I'm sorry, Castle," she whispers. "I just wanted-"

"Why would you do that, Kate? I don't understand."

"Because it's what I would have written, Castle."


End file.
